


the taste of dreams realized

by spinnerofyarns



Category: Silicon Valley (TV)
Genre: College AU, F/M, by which i mean there's a lot of foreplay and a handjob and a tasteful fade to black, failed jarrich, mildly smutty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-20 16:59:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11339622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spinnerofyarns/pseuds/spinnerofyarns
Summary: Jared Dunn wouldn't say he's unhappy. It would be ungrateful of him to be unhappy now.--Snowed in at Monica's apartment, Jared finds himself questioning his relationship with Richard and whether or not that's really what he wants.--Title from "Decade and One" by Vienna Teng





	the taste of dreams realized

            Jared Dunn won’t admit that he’s unhappy. It would be ungrateful of him, he reasons, to be unhappy now. After all, he’s far away from his abusive foster parents, at a prestigious university, studying something he loves, and living with a boyfriend who treats him better than anyone has in a long time. He has enough food to eat, and a warm bed to sleep in at night, and he is slowly healing from the physical trauma of his childhood. It would be just plain ungrateful for him not to be happy. After all, he loves Richard, and he knows that, however deep down, Richard loves him.

            But…he’s not as happy as he expected to be. There’s something missing in his and Richard’s relationship, some essential spark that they just…lack. They almost never go out on dates or do anything as a couple anymore; Richard prefers to spend his nights writing code for his new genius app. Jared feels selfish even thinking about it, but…he’s lonely.

            Which is why when his friend Monica invites him over to eat dinner and prep for their economic history exam, he doesn’t even think twice before agreeing. All he does is text Richard: _I’ll be late getting home, went to a friend’s house to study. Love you._

Richard’s response is brief. _OK. Have fun._ And then a second text, an afterthought. _Love you too._

“Okay,” Jared says. “Let’s go.”

            The snow starts as they walk to Monica’s apartment, but it’s just a light sprinkling. Jared tips his face towards the sky, feeling the icy flakes on his cheeks.  

            “One of my foster mothers used to lock me outside in the snow when I misbehaved,” he says. “It took me a long time to be able to go outside like this without crying.” He pauses. “I’m sorry,” he adds. “I…I forgot that some people find my childhood upsetting.”

            Monica squeezes his glove-clad hand. “That sounds awful, Jared. I’m so sorry it happened to you.”

            Jared shrugs, half-smiles. “It’s okay,” he says. “I survived, didn’t I?”

            “Yeah,” Monica says. “You survived.”

            She keeps holding his hand the rest of the walk to her apartment building, and as she leads him up the stairs to her tiny studio apartment.

            “Sorry it’s such a mess,” she says. “Midterms, y’know?”

            Jared nods. “It’s lovely,” he says. The apartment is small but homey. It reminds him of the tiny Philadelphia 2-bedroom where he lived with his mother before her death. There are black and white photos on the walls, soft jewel-toned throw pillows on the couch, and a cozy woven wool blanket draped over the back of said couch.

            Jared takes off his coat and gloves, while Monica flicks a switch to heat her electric kettle.

            “Sit down wherever,” she says. “Make yourself at home. Would you like some tea?”

            Jared nods. “Thank you,” he says softly.

            “I’m too lazy to cook tonight,” Monica says. “So I thought we’d order takeout. My treat,” she adds quickly. “Why don’t you go through the takeout menu drawer and find something you like?” She taps a drawer next to the stove as she reaches into the cupboard for a box of teabags.

            Jared obediently shuffles the menus until he finds one for a local Indian restaurant. Cheap, filling, delicious food that he’ll be able to eat without an allergic reaction. Perfect.

            “How does Taj Mahal sound?” he asks, holding up the menu.

            “Perfect, my favorites are circled in blue pen. Order yourself whatever you’d like, and make sure to get some naan and poppadams, they’re amazing.”

            Jared nods and picks up the phone as Monica pours them both large mugs of tea.

\----

            The snow’s really coming down by the time the food arrives, and Monica apologizes profusely to the delivery driver – a student Jared recognizes from his philosophy class – as she gives him a generous tip.

            “It’s fine,” he says. “This is my last delivery tonight, and we’re having a snow day tomorrow anyway.”

            “We are?” Jared fumbles for his laptop and checks his student email. Sure enough, there’s an email declaring the next day a snow day and urging students to stay indoors.

            “Richard will be worried," Jared says, though he doesn’t fully believe it. “I should go home.”

            Monica shakes her head. “Not in this weather. I have some spare bedding in my closet, you can sleep on the couch, and tomorrow we can study some more until the snow clears up and you can go home. Now eat.”

            Jared sighs. He knows Monica’s right – it’s too far to walk in the snow and driving in this weather isn’t safe.

            He texts Richard again. _Got snowed in. Spending the night at Monica’s, will be home tomorrow night. Love you._

This time Richard just responds _OK._ No afterthought _love you_. Just those two little letters.

            Jared sighs, putting his phone away.

            “Boyfriend?” Monica asks. Jared nods. “He doesn’t appreciate you enough,” she tells him. “Now come on, help me get this stuff on plates.”

            Jared puts his laptop aside and obediently gets up to help Monica unpackage and plate their food. He pushes her words to the back of his mind – of course Richard appreciates him, how could he not?

\----

            “Jared, slow down!” Monica says. “You’ll give yourself a stomachache. Doesn’t Richard feed you?”

            Jared shakes his head. “I do most of the cooking. And the cleaning. And most of the housework really. But…he lets me live with him and pays most of the rent, so I can’t complain, really – I’m just earning my keep.”

            “Jared,” Monica frowns. “That doesn’t sound like a healthy relationship. You shouldn’t have to earn your keep. And he’s clearly not taking care of you at all, you’re starving and you work yourself much too hard. You deserve so much better.”

            “The eating-too-fast thing is a habit I’ve had for a long time,” Jared says. “Since childhood. I…there were times when I’d go days at a time between meals and I learned that when there’s food in front of me, I need to wolf it down, as much and as fast as I can, because who knows when I’ll next get a meal?”

            “Oh, Jared,” Monica says, reaching out and placing her hand on top of his on his knee. “Jared, darling, that’s awful. I’m so sorry. And I promise I won’t let you go hungry when we’re together. You’re safe with me. Relax. Eat slowly. Take as much food as you want, there’s more than enough for both of us.”

            Jared smiles and visibly relaxes, reaching for another pakorra. “Thank you,” he says softly. “You’re so kind to me.” _So much kinder than Richard,_ he thinks, then immediately feels guilty for letting that thought even enter his head.

            “Of course,” Monica says. “You’re my friend. I – I care about you.” She stops just short of saying “I love you.” “Do you want to study some more after dinner?”

            Jared shakes his head. “Check your email, he moved the test to next week. We can rest and relax and watch a movie or something.”

            “Relax?” Monica teases. “I didn’t even know that was something you could do.”

            “What are you talking about? I’m totally relaxed! Look!” Jared leans back against the couch cushions and smiles.

            “Jared, honey, you’re literally held together with tension.” Monica says. “You look like you could use a break, a nice low-key movie night, some hot chocolate, maybe a massage.”

            “A movie night definitely sounds nice,” Jared says.

            “Great, I have Netflix, we can pick whatever we want after we eat. But first, seconds.” Before Jared can protest, Monica takes his plate and piles it high with food. “No arguments. I can’t in good conscience let you starve.”

            “I’m not _starving_ ,” Jared says. “Not anymore, anyway.”

            “You’re still dangerously underweight,” Monica says. “And I’m worried about you. _Eat._ ”

            Those aren’t just words Jared rarely hears – they’re words he’s never heard, not from Richard and definitely not from any of his foster parents. A vaguely familiar warmth fills his chest. This, he realizes, is how he felt when he started dating Richard, back when their love was new and exciting, before Richard’s newest genius idea sucked him in and pulled him away from Jared.

            Jared bites the inside of his cheek. _Richard,_ he reminds himself. _You’re dating Richard. You love Richard. Monica’s just your friend._ He takes a bite of a samosa to avoid saying anything dumb.

\----

            “Jared, don’t be silly, I’ll do the dishes,” Monica says, pulling on a pair of yellow rubber gloves.

            “It’s the least I can do, you’re feeding me and letting me spend the night, at least let me help.” Jared insists. “It’ll go faster if we do it together,” he adds.

            “All right,” Monica says. “I’ll wash, you dry.”

            They finish the dishes quickly, and Jared stacks them in the cupboard while Monica quickly showers and changes into pajamas. When she comes back, he’s sitting on the couch scrolling through the Netflix queue on her TV.

            “You can go shower now if you want,” Monica says. “There’s an extra toothbrush in the medicine cabinet, and you’re welcome to borrow my soap and shampoo. I’ve laid out spare towels and some clothes on the bed for you – my ex left some of his things here and fuck him if he thinks he’s getting anything back."

            Jared nods. “Okay. Anything you don’t want me to use?”

            Monica shrugs. “Use your judgment. The only thing I have out on the counter that’s a prescription is my face wash, and even that is probably fine for you to use.”

            “Okay,” Jared says again. “I’ll only take a couple minutes, I promise.”

            “Take your time, warm yourself up, you look like you’re freezing.” Monica says. Jared smiles and heads for the bathroom.

            He only takes 7 minutes in the shower, and even that is nearly twice as long as he usually takes, but…the water is so warm and Monica’s lavender shampoo makes the steam smell so lovely, so he takes a few extra minutes, watching his pale skin turn pink from the heat.

            When he comes back, his hair still damp, dressed in his sweater and borrowed pajama pants, going commando because Monica’s ex didn’t forget any underwear, Monica is waiting for him. She lifts the blanket spread over her lap and pats the spot beside her on the couch. Jared sits down, and she drapes the blanket over his legs.

            “What do you want to watch?” she asks. Outside, the snow is piling up around their windows. Jared selects _Breakfast at Tiffany’s_ – a nice, safe classic – and Monica snuggles closer to him and hits Play.

            It’s a movie Jared’s seen many times – his social worker was a big Audrey Hepburn fan, and once took him to a Hepburn film festival when he was in a group home between families. For years, the memory of sitting in a movie theatre, in the dark, eating popcorn and watching movies and not thinking at all about his life outside, was a source of comfort, which he held onto like a precious gem. Even now, something about Audrey Hepburn movies makes him feel a little bit safer, wherever he is.

            He tried watching it with Richard once. Richard fell asleep halfway through. But Monica’s wide awake, mouthing along with her favorite lines. She moves slowly closer to Jared, and he puts his arm around her shoulders. She rests her head on his shoulder, and he feels warm and safe, and _loved_ for the first time in a very long time.

            _Don’t be silly,_ he thinks. _Richard loves you._ But he’s no longer as sure of that as he was that morning.

            By the time the movie ends, Monica’s hand has found its way to Jared’s chest, and she’s rubbing her thumb over the old burn scar on his collarbone.

            “What happened?” she asks. “Who did this to you? It must have hurt terribly.”

            “My foster mother put a cigarette out on me,” Jared says. “It got infected. That’s why the scar is so ugly.”

            Monica’s hand stills, and her other arm, around Jared’s waist, squeezes tighter. “Oh, Jared,” she says softly, pressing her face into his chest. “Jared, I’m so so sorry you went through that. It’s awful that someone would hurt you like that. You didn’t deserve it.” She lifts her head from his chest and kisses him softly, tenderly on the cheek.

            Jared feels tears prickling at his eyes. Even after years out of the foster system, away from his abusers, he still isn’t accustomed to being treated so gently.

            “Oh, Jared, I’m sorry,” Monica says again. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, I’m so sorry.”

            Jared shakes his head. “It’s not – you didn’t hurt me,” he says. “You’re just so consistently kind to me, it’s a little overwhelming.”

            Monica squeezes his waist again, gently pulling him closer. “I keep telling you,” she says, “Richard’s not treating you right. You deserve this sort of treatment all the time. Being treated kindly shouldn’t be overwhelming, sweetheart. It should be ordinary. Especially for you, you definitely deserve it, you’ve really been through the wringer.”

            Jared sniffles. “I…sometimes I want to leave Richard,” he admits. “But I’m scared. Richard might not be perfect, but he doesn’t beat me or starve me or lock me out in the cold. I’m scared that if I leave him I’ll never find anyone who’ll love me again.”

            “I love you.” Monica says, before she can stop herself. “And I’ll take care of you and keep you safe, I promise. If that’s all that’s keeping you from leaving Richard, know that you’ll always have a safe place with me.”

            At this, Jared starts sobbing outright, a mixture of joy and relief and overwhelming emotion. Monica holds him, rubbing his back and repeating “It’s okay, you’re safe, you’re okay, I love you,” until his breathing evens out.

            He keeps his face buried in her shoulder a few more minutes as she rubs his back in silence. Then, he lifts his head, fixing his red-rimmed eyes on her, and says “I…I love you too. And if it’s okay I’d very much like to kiss you.”

            Monica answers by pressing her lips against his, softly, tenderly. They kiss again, and Monica grazes her teeth over Jared’s lower lip, making him shudder and sigh in her mouth as his hands move to her waist. Her own hands move to his hips, the bones jutting out like drawer handles, and her fingers slide under the waistband of his pajama pants as he lies back on the couch. She feels a web of scars on his left hip and runs her fingers over them.

            “What happened here?” she whispers.

            “One of my foster bothers pushed me down the stairs,” Jared says as Monica kisses his neck, his hands cool on her back under her shirt. “I was…severely malnourished at the time, so my bones were very brittle, and I broke my hip and shattered my femur. I was in surgery for almost 24 hours. I’ve still got pins and screws in there, and it took months to learn to walk again. It’s a miracle I can walk at all, really.”

            Sure enough, one of the scars extends most of the way down Jared’s thigh, thick and puckered and painful. Monica traces it with her fingers and thinks of Jared’s slightly uneven gait. It hurts her heart to imagine him as a child, learning to walk again after months in the hospital.

            “You are so brave,” she whispers, looking into his eyes. “So brave and so strong and so good.” She watches his pupils dilate as he sighs a breathy “yes.”

            “You’re my good boy, aren’t you?” she continues, keeping one hand on his battered hip and sliding the other under his sweater over his stomach. “Can you be a good boy and lift your arms for me so I can take this off?”

            Jared obeys, and Monica slides the sweater off over his head. She places it on the floor next to the couch and wriggles out of her own t-shirt.

            There’s a divot in the center of Jared’s chest, between the two sides of his ribcage, and Monica kisses it tenderly before trailing kisses down from there over his tummy down to the waistband of his pants. Jared’s stomach muscles tense, and he giggles.

            “It tickles,” he whispers. Monica responds by pressing her face against his belly and fluttering her eyelashes. He giggles again, a soft delicate sound that sends a rush of heat through her body.

            She moves back up to kiss his face and neck, her hands gripping his ribcage. He feels so small and delicate in her hands like that, as he fumbles with the closure of her bra. She runs her thumb over his nipple, just faintly brushing it, and he throws his head back and sighs again.

            “Why don’t you make some more noise for me, baby?” Monica says, grinding against Jared. “My walls are pretty thick.”

            Jared moans out loud, and Monica feels his erection pressing into her thigh. “Better,” she says, removing her bra and tossing it aside, and guiding his hand to her waist. “Much better.” She circles his nipple with her thumb, then pinches it lightly, eliciting another moan.

            “I’m going to make you feel so good, baby,” she says, kissing his neck. “Do you want that?” She sucks on the spot where his neck becomes his shoulder, leaving a purplish hickey in her wake.

            “Yes,” Jared sighs breathily. “Yes.”

            “What was that, honey?” Monica reaches for the waistband of Jared’s pants, as his hands slide lower down her back.

            “Yes!” Jared moans as Monica takes his cock in her hand. “Oh, god, yes!”

            Monica starts slowly, stroking the head with her thumb until Jared is whimpering, then switches to pumping up and down, getting faster as Jared’s breath becomes ragged and his grip on her ass tightens. He only lasts a few minutes before throwing his head back and moaning as he spills over Monica’s hand. The sight of him like that, his pale throat and the purple blossoming hickey on his neck exposed to the world, tips her over the edge into climax.

            For about two minutes they lie there, panting as their hearts race. Then Monica props herself up on her elbows and sees that Jared is crying.

            “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” she asks. “Did I hurt you?”

            Jared shakes his head. “I’m sorry, I always cry after…well, it’s just so emotional and overwhelming, and you’re so gentle, and it’s just…amazing that two people can be together in such an intimate way.”

            Monica gently kisses him. “It’s okay, baby. I understand.”

            She holds him until his breathing evens out and he says “I need to shower again.”

            “Me too,” she says. “Do you want to do it together?”

\----

            After an indulgently long, hot shower, Jared and Monica change into t-shirts and underwear – Jared’s briefs have had just enough time to dry since he washed them and left them on the heater after his first shower – and find themselves back on the couch, wrapped around each other.

            “Can you come with me tomorrow?” Jared asks. “I’m scared I won’t have the courage to break up with Richard unless you’re there to back me up.”

            “Of course, honey,” Monica says, kissing him. They pull apart when Jared’s stomach growls.

            Jared blushes. “I’m sorry.”

            Monica rests a hand on his tummy. “Let’s get some food in you,” she says. “And some hot chocolate, how does that sound?” She gets up from the couch and heads to the kitchen. Jared follows her.

            After eating some of the leftover takeout and drinking large mugs of almond milk hot chocolate, Jared and Monica curl up under the covers of Monica’s bed and watch the snow falling outside, and talk until they fall asleep. When they wake up again, it’s light outside, and the snow is still falling.

            “Well, I can’t go home till this clears up,” Jared says. “We could watch another movie…”

            “Mmm…or…” Monica says, pulling Jared closer and feeling his erection against her, “or…we could have sex…”

            Jared responds by kissing her, hungrily, as she reaches blindly into her nightstand for a condom.

\----

            “Right.  You know what you’re going to tell him?” Monica asks as they walk up the stairs to the apartment Jared shares with Richard.

            Jared nods. “Yep. It’s time for us to take a break and see other people.” He’s about to put his key in the lock when the door swings open and Richard appears, accompanied by a large man Jared recognizes as Erlich Bachman, Richard’s friend from the CS department.

            “I had a great ni – oh. Hi Jared. Hi Monica.” Richard cuts himself off. “Jared, you’ve met Erlich, right?”

            “Richard,” Jared says, then takes a deep breath and starts over. “I’m just here to get my things. I’m breaking up with you.”

            “What? No, Jared it’s not what – uh – it’s – well – I – “ Richard stammers.

            “This is fucking awkward.” Erlich says, squeezing past Jared and Monica. “Call me, Richard,” he says, disappearing down the stairs.

            “It’s not you.” Jared says. “Or…well, maybe it is, but last night I cheated on you with Monica. And I realized I wouldn’t have done that if I was happy with you. So I’m getting my things, and moving into Monica’s apartment.”

            Richard moves aside silently to let them in, shell-shocked.

            Jared makes a beeline for the bedroom, where he takes his bags from the closet and begins packing his meager possessions – clothes, books, a few photographs – into the bags.

            He hears Monica’s and Richard’s voices, muffled by the door, and the sound of a slap. Monica rushes into the bedroom, where Jared is almost finished packing.

            “That little _snot_ has been fucking Erlich behind your back for months!” she says. “Rat bastard! Are you almost done?”

            Jared zips the second bag. “Ready,” he says, refusing to let his mind linger on what she just told him. “Let’s go.”

            He leaves the key on the table, where Richard is sitting, holding an ice pack to his cheek.

            “Bye, Jared,” Richard says, without making eye contact. Jared doesn’t answer.

            Outside, he tips his head up to the sky and inhales deep lungfuls of crisp winter air. He’s finally free, finally happy.

            Finally _loved_.


End file.
